


Reviving History

by Reality 2_0 (reality_2_0)



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reality_2_0/pseuds/Reality%202_0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP set July 30, 2010 (the night before their daughter’s wedding)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reviving History

Once again, she hadn’t shown him what she intended to wear, hadn’t even said a word beyond “It’s turquoise.” She had taken Chelsea with her that day to pick a dress, and so far, nothing he had tried to get more information out of their daughter had worked. Every time he had made an attempt, she had just grinned and said, “You’ll see, dad, but I promise you’ll love it.” 

“Love it” turned out to be a big understatement. Entering the dressing room, he stopped dead in his tracks the moment he laid eyes upon his wife who was standing in front of the mirror, fiddling with her earrings, adding the final touches to her look. Standing in the doorway, he didn’t, couldn’t do anything but look at her, try to take it all in: the flowing material of the dress that played around her curves while hiding most of them at the same time, the way the colour complimented her eyes, the wavy hair she let grow, the red lips and – apparently, she really wanted to ensure he would be her first husband – the neckline. While he certainly wasn’t unused to the sight, it wasn’t one he normally found himself treated to when she prepared to leave the house and face the public. Granted, it wasn’t a public event they were about to attend, but with the royalty-like status his family had been attributed over the years, you could count on quite a few paparazzi being around, trying to get a good shot or two of them upon their arrival. However, far was it from him to complain. His wife looked stunning, and he would enjoy showing her off. He would have to thank Chelsea tonight for doing whatever it was she had done to convince her mother to choose this dress. Although he would never dream of even thinking of telling her what to wear and what not to wear, he relished the days when she abandoned her normally conservative style and embraced her girlish, her feminine side.

Looking up again, his gaze was met by hers in the mirror, her eyes twinkling with knowing amusement that told him she knew exactly what he was thinking, what she was doing to him.

A boyish smile on his face, he shrugged his shoulders and bridged the short distance between them. Coming to stand behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaned his head on hers and studied their reflected image.

“Beautiful,” he said after a while and moved to kiss her cheek, then her shoulder.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” She smiled and leaned back against him.

Continuing to press soft kisses onto her shoulder, he enjoyed the view this position granted him. There was no way she didn’t notice the focus of his gaze, but she didn’t admonish him, rather closed her eyes and, humming, enjoyed his ministrations. Emboldened by her submission, he allowed his hands to slowly start to roam her body; at first, only moving his fingers, stroking her where they lay on her hips before he moved his hands up her ribcage, lightly massaging her shoulders. The motion earned him a soft smile. She loved being fondled, relaxed under his touch easily, but didn’t allow many people that close to her – physically as well as emotionally. He felt honoured by the amount of trust she bestowed upon him, knew that, their daughter aside, he was the person she trusted the most, a mutual feeling.

As much as she obviously enjoyed herself right now, she also seemed to be aware of the fact that they had to leave soon. Not that their being late would be a first, far from it, and it was normally his fault, he knew. To his slight dismay, she moved away from him to reach for the necklace lying on the small table. Meeting no resistance but rather getting a thankful look, he took the piece of jewellery from her and put it around her neck, closing it carefully. He kissed her neck before he let her hair fall down again to cover the soft skin. Looking at her reflection, he straightened the necklace from behind, using the opportunity to then trace her neckline and even sneak a fingertip beneath the fabric. Partly earnest, partly playful, she slapped his hand away.

“We have to leave,” she said.

“I know.” He did know, but that knowledge didn’t diminish the disappointment that clearly showed on his face. Why again did he have to share this woman, his woman he didn’t see often enough at the moment with all these people tonight? Especially when she looked like this?

She turned around, her expression slightly amused, and kissed him shortly.

“Later,” she promised.

His mood brightened immediately.

“After the party,” she clarified.

He grinned at her.

“When we’re back home.”

He pouted, she knew him too well. If she hadn’t added the last detail, all bets would have been off the moment the car doors had closed behind them on the way home. Not that he wouldn’t at least try now, a fact she was well aware of.

One last look into the mirror. “Ready to go, handsome?”

As ready as he’d ever be, considering he would prefer to take her to bed instead of leaving the house and spending the next few hours in the company of quite a few other people; so he nodded, and off they went.

 

As he had expected, the crowd went wild upon seeing her. It truly didn’t come as a surprise. How often did they get to see his wife dressed like that? For her, the dress could be considered daring. Grabbing her hand, he staked his claim and relished showing off his beautiful wife.

Entering the restaurant, he found Chelsea looking at him amused yet knowing. He shrugged, then embraced his daughter and whispered a thank you into her ear.

“I knew you’d like it,” she replied, equally quiet.

While he definitely did more than “like it”, he wondered when he had become a masochist for, over the course of the evening, he not only caught a glimpse or two of the skin that the dress was supposed to cover but also spotted other men noticing it with interest. Rationally, he knew that he had nothing to worry about as everybody knew very well that she was his and his alone, but emotionally, he only wanted to drag her to the next private space and reclaim her from head to toe. It was torture – sweet torture, but torture nonetheless. He couldn’t wait to be alone with her away from all these people. He liked these people, but he loved his wife more.

Of course, she was aware of the effect she had on him, didn’t need to be a telepath to know what was going on in his mind. And being the woman she was, she taunted him, flirted playfully, did everything short of running her foot up his leg under the table to keep him on his toes the entire evening. If he had been younger still, he wouldn’t have been able to withstand her, to endure her teasing for as long as he did now. He was actually proud of himself for not metaphorically throwing her over his shoulder, carrying her to the next available restroom to have his way with her. As it was, though, he could do nothing but distract himself by reciting random trivia to unsuspecting dinner guests.

 

Once the first guests started to leave, he found himself eyeing the door longingly time and again. His daughter must have caught him staring for she glanced at him with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. He tried to look innocent, but she obviously didn’t buy the act, knew exactly what was going on. And at the end of the day, he couldn’t find anything shameful or wrong with loving and desiring his wife and their daughter knowing that.

Then, finally, his beautiful woman put a hand onto his shoulder and quietly asked him how he felt about heading home. It took some restraint to not jump up and exclaim “About time!” and to instead affirm calmly.

So they said their goodbyes to the remaining guests, embraced their daughter once again and walked out just like they had arrived – hand in hand. For him, touching her was compulsive and happened unconsciously. The moment she was within range, his hand sought her out, either grabbing her hand or coming to rest on her shoulder or back, whichever was available and the most convenient at the time. Although she wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of person by nature herself, she always accepted his touch, had done so since the very beginning of their relationship. It was the exception to the rule. The more he had learned about her, the better he had gotten to know her over the years, the more this fact had humbled him, and he had learned his lesson to never take their connection for granted.

 

Sitting so close to her in the car, being able to drink her in without anybody catching him staring, knowing what awaited him at home made the ride even more torturous than the dinner had been. He liked their agents, wouldn’t decline Secret Service protection – the world was just too dangerous and neither of them had made only friends over the years – but right now, he wished to be alone in the car with his wife. Granted, that would mean that either of them had to drive, not a good idea in general and certainly an even worse idea if he wanted to ravish her on the spot, that being an excellent reason for irrational thoughts. And on that note, had the ride there been that long as well? He had to shake his head at himself.

“What’s up, honey?” she asked, leaning forward and putting a hand on his knee.

Did she really just make that pun, he wondered. Was she even aware of what exactly she had said? So he raised an eyebrow, looked her in the eyes before letting his gaze drop a few inches.

“Nothing, darling,” he tried as it seemed a good answer in the light of them having company, even if said company in theory didn’t hear or see anything.

“I hope that’s a lie.” And thus he had his answer: Yes, she knew very well what she had said and done. Groaning, he rubbed his hands over his face while she laughed at him. Well, at least one of them had fun.

“You’ll pay,” he mouthed.

“We’ll see,” she mouthed back.

They shared a grin.

 

The front door closing behind them was the sweetest sound to his ears. It signalled the beginning of their private time and also indicated that all bets were off.

Her attempt to hurry past him into the dressing room turned out to be unsuccessful as he grabbed her by the hips and reeled her into his arms to do what he had wanted to do before they had to leave the house: pressing her firmly against his body and kissing her passionately.

“Have I told you how utterly beautiful you look tonight?” he asked between kisses.

“Not in so many words,” she replied, grinning at him, her eyes sparkling with joy and love. How he loved that look, a look that was reserved for him alone.

“That’s inexcusable. But can I make it up to you somehow?”

“You could tell me now.”

Ever since he had known her, she hadn’t cared much about her looks, had worn what was there or practical. Although she had learned a lesson or two when it came to her styling since then, fashion remained a necessary evil in her eyes. She only wanted to look good for him; his approval was the only one that really counted to her. And tonight, she looked way beyond good.

During their eight years at the White House, he had seen her in many a dress. Some he had liked more than others. Both gowns she had worn to the Inauguration Balls held a special place in his heart and mind as he still remembered his reaction to her the first time he had seen her in either of them. She had looked magnificent – just like she did tonight, only for different reasons. Whereas those ball gowns had accentuated her curves, this lighter gown hid them, whereas they didn’t allow him to even catch a glimpse of her cleavage – probably a good thing considering they had spent a lot of time on stage in front of thousands of people – this gown almost flaunted it. So he had lost one turn-on and gained another, not an unfair trade at all. Besides, he wasn’t sure how much more he could have handled.

Now, that he had survived the official part of the evening, though, he could stop worrying, could give up any pretence of dignity and appreciate her the way he had longed to do for hours. It would be his pleasure to tell her in detail just how gorgeous she looked, how much he appreciated her choice of dress, how sexy she still was to him, how much he still wanted and loved her. He would pay his compliments with words as well as with actions. However, in order to do the latter, the jewellery had to go. No matter how good it looked on her or how well it went with the dress.

Caressing her soul with softly-spoken words of love and admiration, he gently removed first the earrings, then the necklace and finally the bracelet, putting each piece carefully on the nearest surface to be put away in the morning, leaving only her rings behind. When he was done, a light blush graced her fair skin. However, that didn’t stop her from repaying his actions by pushing his jacket off his shoulders the moment he had let go of the last piece. Some equality had to be observed, and far was it from him to protest as they were clearly of the same mind – at least in regards of the final goal.

After taking off his own shoes and socks, he slowly kneeled down, running his hands over her body as he went, to help her out of her shoes. Remaining near the ground for a little longer, he reached underneath the wide skirt to caress her legs. She really must have dressed for him tonight – no pantyhose. Her tendency to avoid them whenever she possibly could had almost always worked in his favour, it certainly did right now. He continued to stroke her soft skin until she nudged him with a foot, drawing his attention to her face again.

“May I suggest moving somewhere else? Preferably somewhere more comfortable?” she inquired.

“You may.” He laughed and took the hand she offered to help him up. “But I’m not done with you, yet,” he promised.

“I concur.” She eyed him with unmistakable hunger that sent a shiver down his spine. He was definitely in for a memorable night. Who would get his or her way, though, remained to be seen.

Unable to resist the temptation she presented, he leaned down to kiss her once again. These days, he didn’t get the chance to do that often enough so he had to make use of this rare opportunity as much as he possibly could.

Somehow, they made it up the stairs and into their bedroom without too much stumbling, pushing and dragging each other while refusing to let go of the other or to truly break the kiss. It was a heady feeling, one that sent him at least 35 years into the past.

Contrary to their daughter’s wedding, their own one definitely had involved very little planning and a lot less people, but he didn’t regret a thing about it. He would marry her again today without a second thought for she was the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life. He couldn’t imagine one without her in it. Accepting her rejection of his proposal time and again without taking it too personal and eventually waiting her out had paid off immensely. People might have thought them both insane – for different reasons: him for hooking up with a woman like her, a woman they thought wasn’t attractive and too outspoken, her for choosing him and his hillbilly state over a promising career in one of the big cities – but they proved them all wrong, because almost 40 years later, they were still together, still loved each other, still were in love with each other, still desired each other. Yes, they weren’t 20, 30 or even 40 anymore, but they certainly weren’t dead yet either. The jolt of pleasure that went through his body as she palmed his cock through his pants was the best proof of that.

He moaned and reached for her hand, bringing it up to his face. Tenderly, he pressed his lips against her palm.

“You don’t wanna do that,” he informed her, the meaning clear. If she continued, this party would be over before it really began, and he had every intention of joining in the most primal and carnal way with her before they fell asleep tonight.

For a moment, it seemed as if she would revolt, but then she relented – she was nothing if not practical and reasonable – and instead started to unbutton his shirt and tugging it out of his trousers, kissing his bare chest.

Hadn’t the plan been to get her out of the dress? She had a talent for distracting him. He definitely needed to catch up and even the odds.

Repeating his move from earlier this evening, he trailed a finger along her neckline, slipped the fingertip under the fabric. This time, she let him do as he pleased. In the light of no resistance, his touch got bolder. He caressed her chest with the whole hand, pushed the soft material of the dress aside, off her shoulder thus expanding the amount of easily accessible skin. She assisted him by pulling her arms out of the sleeves, thereby baring her entire upper body to him – not counting the bra, a simple satin one. To say he didn’t prefer the lacy models that could be found in her closet as well would have been a lie. Today, however, he was glad she hadn’t chosen one of those. In addition to everything else, it would have been the final straw for him. He moved to rid her off this particular piece of clothing, but she shook her head.

“Shirt first,” she demanded.

He knew better than to even contemplate negotiating with her on this, divested himself of the shirt and threw it aside. She smiled at him, put her flat hands on his stomach and moved them upwards until her arms were wrapped around his neck. Getting on her toes, she pulled him down for a kiss, her tongue seeking entry to his mouth, a request he was of no mind to deny. For a while, they teased each other with lips, teeth and tongue, nipping, nibbling and licking. In the meantime, he opened the closure of her bra. Cooperating – a deal was a deal – she took off the garment so they stood naked chest against naked chest, treasuring the skin contact. Whoever said that old people didn’t or shouldn’t have sex had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. No question, the frequency of their encounters had decreased since their student days, but his wife was still the woman he desired the most, the woman he wanted to share a bed with. Despite all the years, decades they had spend together, the countless times they had made love, the sight and feeling of her skin still excited him. That they didn’t have the agility any longer to take each other hard against the wall didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy sex anymore, and he hoped that would never be the case, couldn’t imagine ever giving her up. Despite what his actions might have indicated in the past, she was the one for him and always would be. He considered it a privilege that she didn’t feel the need to hide from him, was carefree and open around him, with him. Just like right now.

Reciprocating her earlier action, he put his hands first high on her waist before moving them slowly upward until he could cup her breasts. Upon his stimulating her nipples by rubbing his palms over them, rolling them between his fingers and playfully tweaking them, she moaned into the kiss. Between her joyous sounds and the feeling of her soft flesh in his hands, he couldn’t tell who of them enjoyed this more. It was definitely a close call.

However nice this was, though; tonight, he was greedy, wanted more, wanted it all, therefore abandoning her bosom – albeit reluctantly – for a short time at least to push the dress further down her body until the gravity finished the job for him, leaving her only in a pair of panties.

She stepped out of the dress and sat down on the bed, crooking her finger at him with a seductive smile on her lips. His siren. After a moment of drinking in the sight of her – after all, he would need the memories of tonight to carry him through the next weeks when they would hardly see each other again – he followed her call, bridged the short distance with two steps, coming to a halt directly in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders, massaging them lightly before moving on to her neck and finally burying them in her hair. While he stroked her head, twirled her hair around his fingers, she unbuckled his belt, undid his button, lowered the zippered and thus his trousers suffered the same fate that had befallen her dress some moments ago – they slid down his legs to the ground. Sneaky as she was, she sent his underpants after them instantly. Before she could do anything else, though, he grabbed her hands, and while stepping out of clothes, pushed her down onto the mattress. Apparently, his reaction amused her for she laughed lightly at him. He couldn’t help but respond with a grin of his own. Against popular opinion, his wife knew how to have fun and enjoy life. And making love had never been an overly serious affair between them. He adored this playful side of her that not many people got to know.

“Not fair,” he complained in jest, tickling her gently.

In an attempt to avoid his nimble fingers, she wriggled under him, laughing louder. Her motion had a pleasurable but not intended side effect on him as her body rubbed against his in all the right places. He cursed his luck. Of course, he enjoyed the stimulation. The problem was he enjoyed it too much which counteracted his plan to take his time making love to her. However, he better not complain as she would tell him it was his own fault for tickling her – and she’d have a point there. In order to get himself out of this precarious situation and increase the chances of being able to see his plan through, he rolled to the side, coming to lie next to her, and stopped his attack.

His manoeuvre hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. “Problems?” she teased, a little bit out of breath, as she trailed a finger over his chest.

“Not at all,” he denied, knowing very well she would recognise the lie behind the words.

“In that case...” With a sudden move, she pushed him onto his back.

“Okay, okay,” he relented before she could go any further. “Please, darling, I just want to make love to you. Slowly. I want us to take our time.” His verbal plea was accompanied by a look that she used to call his “puppy eyes”, a look he knew she couldn’t resist. He could almost see her heart melting as her expression became soft and her whole posture relaxed.

“Oh, stop it.” She slapped him jestingly.

“Please?” he repeated.

“Not fair,” she sighed before lying back down on her back, her arms resting comfortably above her head. “Do your worst.”

The unspoken “I want my turn” was understood and accepted by him. He wouldn’t want her any other way. For now, though, she had surrendered to him, was willing to grant him his wish. He would make it worth her while.

The first course of action was ridding her of the last piece of clothing. That accomplished, he lay back down on his side next to her, caressing her with one hand wherever he could reach, all the while quietly telling her how she had affected him tonight, how she was still affecting him.

His touch, loving as well as arousing, had the desired effect on her. She moaned quietly, hummed appreciatively, shivered and writhed lightly. After all these years, he could play her like a master, knew which touch where would get him which reaction, knew all the special spots that, when stimulated, turned her on without fail. At the beginning, he avoided those places, skimmed them at best – much to her frustration. But he wanted it to last as long as possible, and she played along, seemed to know he needed this tonight, needed her. And he was sure she relished this time together with him, too. She wouldn’t be so compliant if she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t remain completely idle, ran a hand over his head, caressing his scalp, cheek and lips. 

Eventually, he paid more and more attention to the spots he had originally avoided on purpose. Hovering above her, he used his mouth in addition to the hand, kissing, nibbling and sucking on her skin, always careful to not leave a mark that would be visible tomorrow or the days after for that would a) cause a turmoil of insane speculation if the press spotted even one hickey on her and b) get him into trouble with his wife and his daughter, especially the latter worrying about her wedding pictures; he would never hear the end of it. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t leave any mark on his beloved wife at all, he just had to choose their locations carefully, deliberately – outer sides of the breasts, hips, thighs, backside, all those places nobody but them would see under normal circumstances were fair game.

In the spirit of that, he spread her legs a bit more by putting one of his legs between hers and latched on to the inside of one thigh. Proving that he could multitask very well, he began to fondle her vulva at the same time, causing her to squirm in earnest. He had to smile; he was definitely pushing the right buttons.

Marking her, he slowly moved north until his mouth joined his fingers, two of which he pushed inside of her, as his tongue circled her clitoris. Her moans were music to his ears. 

Generally, she had a very tight grip on her emotions, especially in public, but with him, at home, he knew her to let go, to relax. He also knew that, contrary to the contorted image people tried to paint of her, she enjoyed sex. There was no denying that she had a different relation to it than he had – definitely not a bad thing – but she didn’t consider it a spousal duty to get over and be done with on a regular basis. They wouldn’t be here right now if she had for he couldn’t see himself with such a woman no matter how much her brains appealed to him. He still remembered their student days at Yale. Yes, definitely not a prude. Not then, not now.

Another even louder moan filled the air as he added another finger and increased the rhythm, simultaneously sucking harder at her pleasure point. He loved this, loved her taste, loved he could play her like an instrument and cause these sweet sounds she didn’t make for anybody else.

It wasn’t a secret that she had a very soft spot for his hands, was prone to staring at them. What was a secret, though, was what she envisioned them doing whenever she couldn’t take her eyes off them and let her mind wander. It had taken even him a while to pry that information out of her. However, when she had blushed one day when he had caught her staring once again, all bets had been off. By tickling and kissing her, he had forced her to share her thoughts. Ever since then, he tried to put his hands into her line of vision as often as possible, although it could be torture for him at the same time, knowing his wife had carnal thoughts, was turned on by him. Not as turned on as she was right now, though, which was probably a good thing considering she was close to orgasm. He knew the signs, knew it wouldn’t take much for her to find her release, so he halted his motions. It got him the expected growl and his name uttered with confusion, but he just raised his head and placed a kiss onto her stomach. “Night isn’t over, yet, darling.”

Another growl, another glare that would have frightened a lesser man into submission. While that glare would frighten him under different circumstances as well, it didn’t have that effect now. It was simply a part of the game they played, just like her teasing, just like his seduction, just like her making him pay for what he had just done.

Once the telltale signs lessened, he began his sensual assault anew.

She swore and cursed his sorry soul, but to his surprise, didn’t try to turn the tables on him. He was actually prepared for that, prepared to hold her down and literally pull his weight. However, it seemed she was truly in an amicable, giving mood tonight. What he had done to deserve this, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t question it, her, would simply enjoy her gift while it lasted. There was no doubt in his mind that their roles would be reversed sooner or later. Until then, though, he would make the most of what he got. So he tenderly ran his fingers over the skin of her thighs, hips, stomach, and heading upwards until he reached her breasts, all the while mimicking the ministrations with his tongue on her pleasure point.

Again, he brought her as near to an orgasm as he could without her actually coming before he stopped once more. He let his hands and mouth rest where they were, but didn’t move either even one millimetre. Her frustration with him was palpable. When she growled his full name at him, he knew he was nearing dangerous territory. In order to minimize her range of reach – and to add to his collection of memories to recall and live on the coming weeks, months – he got on his knees and flipped her over before she could realise what he was up to.

For a moment, she was frazzled by the change of position, but then she looked up over her shoulder, grinned wickedly at him and shamelessly raised her hips.

It was his turn to groan loudly. He couldn’t deny that she knew how to push his buttons, too. She was testing his resolve, his mental strength, challenged him to abandon his plan and speed things up instead. He bit his lip, tried to focus his mind on any asexual thing he could think of: budget plans, Newt Gingrich, his dog, Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, anything really that would keep him from coming right then and there or taking her as hard as he could. She had definitely discovered the downside (if one could really call it that) of his action quickly.

“Darling,” he growled, indicating that this was not what he had had in mind when he changed her position.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to,” she shot back, daring him to deny the obvious.

“But...”

In answer, she only wiggled her behind. Bad pun, but highly appropriate under the circumstances.

Unable to resist any longer, he put his hands on that part of her anatomy, caressed it, eventually leaning down to press his lips against her skin. In this particular case, he truly enjoyed kissing ass.

Upon that action, her content sighs turned into a giggle which earned her a slap to the flesh he had been kissing only a moment before. Instead of stopping her, though, it only made her laugh harder. Impossible woman. But what had he been expecting? This had always been her reaction to this particular sign of affection. She always indulged him, but never took it particularly serious.

Still trying to calm herself down, she raised her backside a little bit higher, issuing another invitation. This time, he just couldn’t withstand her temptation any longer. Gripping her hips with both hands, he positioned himself behind her between her legs and slowly sank into her wetness.

The moment he reached the point where he couldn’t go any deeper, he stilled, halted all motion and simply relished the feeling of being joined with the love of his life. It was an experience that never got old. He couldn’t image ever not wanting to be with her, ever not loving her, ever not desiring her. She had been made for him, and he would make sure to treasure that gift until the end of his days. There were times when they were angry with each other, had shouting matches, but that didn’t mean they loved each other less. It was simply part of who they were, and a life with a woman who didn’t call him up on his bullshit defied his imagination. Besides, there was something to be said about make-up sex. However, there was also something to be said about slow, tender love making that consumed him body, mind and soul. Especially the latter soared when she reached for his hand and entwined their fingers, arching her back against his chest. Nobody would ever think this woman could be such a cat, a cuddle cat at that. She was stubborn and independent as one, too, and now showed her claws, tightened her walls around his member, unequivocally letting him know what she wanted – if he didn’t move, she would sabotage his plan in the most efficient way.

“Yes, darling,” he whispered against her back as he kissed along her spine before starting to pull out of her at snail’s pace. She wanted him moving, he wanted to take things slow – it seemed like a good compromise. At least until one of them got tired of compromising and demanded satisfaction right that moment. Whether that would be she or his body remained to be seen.

For now, he was content to keep up the slow pace moving in and out of her wet heat. While his left hand covered hers, stroking her skin, playing with her rings, the right one mapped her body, cupped a breast, teased its peak, slid over her stomach down to the apex of her legs, skimming her clitoris – just a short, tender brush as he liked her all riled up but didn’t want her to come just yet, because when she did, he would lose it, too. His hold on his control was slippery at best, his body’s desire to race to the ecstatic finish as intense as hers. It was still mind over matter, though, for now. He knew the flesh would win this fight eventually, but he was determined to prolong it for as long as possible. If only she didn’t make it so difficult for him.

She moaned softly, countered his rhythm – lazy as it was – with motions of her own, meeting him stroke for stroke, occasionally squeezed his hard flesh, especially when he brushed a digit over her pleasure point again. Yes, she was definitely repaying his teasing with some of her own. Showering her back with kisses, designs painted with the tip of his tongue and strokes with the nose didn’t placate her, although they made her purr in enjoyment. Another audio bit to add to his catalogue of things to remember during the time they would spend on different continents. While audio was all they had at those times, there were sounds as well as words you wouldn’t hear from her through an insecure line. And propriety among other things forbade using a secure line for private talk, private talk of the carnal kind. So words of love with a bit innuendo was all he got then. Pity, but yet another price they paid for their dream to make the world a better place for everybody. He contented himself with the fact that there was an end to their life being spent separated for the majority of the year. It wouldn’t happen this year or even the next, but the point of change wasn’t some imaginary one in the far future either. Even then, they would still go on trips, trips around the world without the other, but they would at least be as near to a normal domestic life as they could ever get. Definitely a time he was looking forward to. It might be selfish, given her talents, but he liked having her all to himself, not sharing her with anybody.

He had been possessive, selfish 35 years ago when he had finally gotten her to agree to marry him, and that feeling of possessiveness still hadn’t changed. Never would. He probably shouldn’t feel that way, considering the double standard he had applied in the past. He couldn’t help himself, though. Ever since he had first encountered her, he had known she was like no other woman in his life, had known she would consume him, turn his emotional world upside down. Before he had met her, he hadn’t truly known what love was – aside from the love a mother had for her child. He had been afraid of falling in love, of attaching himself to a woman, of making a lifetime commitment, and although she hadn’t diminished that fear, she had made him want to conquer it, to face it head-on. He had been afraid of falling for her but couldn’t control his emotions; he had been afraid of attaching himself to her but couldn’t stay away; he had been afraid of committing himself to her but he couldn’t imagine a life without her. Her resistance had only increased his determination to win this battle, to win her. Just like her attempts to speed up their coupling right now made him cling even harder to his control to turn her into a puddle of need before he let go and surrendered them both to the orgasmic high.

Despite her protest, he thus halted his motion once more and teased her sensitive bundle of nerves with his fingers, rubbing it with varying pressure while sprinkling small love bites on her back – another place no random person got to look at. The world would come to an end if his wife ever wore a backless dress in public. He loved her back, but he also loved the fact that, in a way, it belonged to him. He was the one who got to wash it, to kiss it, to stroke it unhindered by any fabric.

His name falling from her lips in a threatening tone alerted him to the fact that he had reached the limit of her patience, that she wouldn’t be toyed with any longer. Since tying her up wasn’t an option, he reluctantly pulled out of her completely and lay down on his back next to her, pulling her on top of him.

Considering the voiced protest upon his retreat, he had expected her to sink down on him immediately, but she instead chose to remind him that she was anything but predictable. Her expression had changed from disappointment and confusion to surprise to something that could only be described as devilishly mischievous. It told him he was in trouble, big trouble. Pleasurable fun trouble, but trouble nonetheless. From the outset, he had known he would pay for his indulgence, had known he was in a way living on borrowed time, and his time was obviously up.

Ignoring his need pressing against her wet skin, she leaned down and started placing kisses on his chest, some not much more than a breeze, others hard enough to leave a mark. Revenge. He better not got caught bare-chested in public soon now. That wouldn’t be too difficult. However, to avoid any awkwardness and possible rumours, he should also avoid the pool if anybody but his wife was present. He wasn’t ashamed of the proof that he had an active marital sex life, but he knew people, knew they talked, knew their imaginations ran wild, knew they loved to twist the truth – they both had had enough of this in the past to last them a lifetime or two – and given her position, a bit of decorum needed to be observed. She had always done her best to protect him, it was his responsibility to do the same for her.

At the moment, protecting dignity or decorum was the last thing on his mind, though. Attacking her was more like it. However, that was not going to happen. He had had his chance, now it was rightfully her turn no matter how much he wanted to take the lead again, to be the one in charge, to push into her at the pace of his choice. But he was at her mercy, couldn’t do anything but mirror her earlier actions or rather reactions, moaning, groaning, writhing under her ministrations as she caressed him, nipped at his skin, did everything she could to drive him crazy with desire. Not only the touches but also the sight affected him, robbed him of the last coherent thought that had still lingered around. Power as an aphrodisiac was more than just a cliché, and having one of the most powerful women of the world naked hovering above him was a big turn-on, increased by the fact that she belonged to him alone.

Had it been as torturous for her as it was for him?

When she slid down his body, teasingly traced the length of his erection with the tip of her tongue, his control started to slip from his grasp in earnest. He growled her name warningly. If she continued down that path, it all would be over very shortly and not in the way he wanted it to end. She looked up at him, smirking, very much aware of what she was doing to him, and wrapped her lips around the tip of his penis, circling it with her tongue, sucking lightly. He begged whatever deity was willing to listen to him right that moment to have mercy on him and let him be strong enough to hold on until she saw it fit to join their bodies again.

He called out her name again, even more urgently now, hoping she would not only get the message – it obviously hadn’t been lost to her the first time – but would act in his favour. To his relief, she released her oral hold on him, but not without placing a chaste kiss onto the head. Damn that woman, she knew it was the little things that tended to be his undoing.

Stroking her knees with his fingers tips, he wordlessly asked her to move upwards again.

“Who says I’m done with you, yet?” she inquired, challengingly, an eyebrow raised, her hands still dangerously near to his hard flesh.

“If you aren’t, I’ll be done,” he admitted defeat. Beat at his own game, not that he was surprised or minded too much. He had accumulated quite a few new memories tonight, and she seemed to have gotten her share of pleasure out of it as well. Especially the latter was important to him. He would never settle for less, didn’t understand the men who bedded a woman only for their own satisfaction. “Slam, bam, thank you, ma’am” wasn’t his modus operandi. Not that he was generally opposed to quickies. Far from it, but time restriction shouldn’t influence the mutuality of the pleasure. While this was anything but a quickie – he would save that for the next time he managed to visit her at the office – he could feel time running out on them. He knew his body demanded release, and he also recognised the signs of hers. Not the least of which was the fact that she responded to his begging, crawled up his body to slide his erection into her wetness again, leaning down for a deep kiss that mimicked the action of their lower bodies.

Eventually, she sat up again, providing him with the perfect angle to penetrate her as deeply as possible. Their moans mingled in the air, danced together along the walls of their bedroom.

As she slowly started to move her hips, his hands moved to cup her breasts, to massage them, to tease her nipples. Most of the time, their gazes were entwined as their bodies, but he couldn’t help stealing a glance at the rest of her occasionally.

JFK had preferred this position because of his back problems. He had different reasons, and to see her move from this angle, to watch her throw her head back, exposing her neck, shaking her hair while she rode him were only a few of them.

This had been great when they had gotten married all those decades ago, and although it, they had changed, evolved over time, it hadn’t lost any of its appeal. He had been as crazy about her then as he was now. It didn’t matter how often they had done this. Familiarity didn’t equal boredom for him in this case.

Reading his body like an open book, she steadily increased her pace, randomly tightening her walls around him, taking him very near to the edge fast. While he approved of the course they were on, he didn’t want to fall alone. Driven by that wish, he reluctantly removed one hand from a breast – they loved this particular location, he couldn’t help it – and sought out her clitoris again. Stimulating the bundle of nerves, he could see the trembling of her body increasing along with her moans by the moment.

It didn’t take long then for her muscles to spasm around his member and drag him with her off the cliff into the sea of bliss where orgasmic waves swapped them away.

For a few moments longer, she propped herself up, hands flat on his chest, but then she sacked down on him. He could feel her shudder against him as he continued to rub her pleasure point, wanting her to come as hard and long as possible. The memories would have to last a while for her as well. He only relented when she bit down on his chest, telling him that it was getting too much.

Quietly, he relished the sensation of bonelessness, unconsciously stroking her back until the frequency of their breathing and hearts had decreased and she rolled off him, thereby terminating their intimate connection much to his dismay. He knew it would happen, had to be, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

As they lay next to each other face to face, he looked at her with a tender smile on his lips, caressed her face with his forefinger, moved a strand of hair behind her ear.

“What?” she asked him quietly.

“Just thinking of the night before a different wedding thirty-five years ago.”

A smile similar to his own formed on her face. “Quite a different wedding,” she said, remembering their own ceremony, comparing it with the plans for tomorrow.

“But still one of the best days of my life.” He kissed her softly. “And I’ll never get tired of replaying the preceding night.”

She made a show of rolling her eyes before whispering “Me neither.”

Laughing quietly, he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to him. “Sleep?”

“Please.”

He reached to the nightstand to switch off the lights. “Good night, darling.”

“Night, honey.”

Feeling her succumb to sleep, he took a few moments to think of how lucky, how fortunate he was, of how far he had come. While he was nervous about leading his daughter down the aisle, he couldn’t wait to lead his beautiful wife to the dance floor afterwards.

With his thoughts still wound around the woman in his arms, he followed her into the land of dreams.

The End.


End file.
